The headline starkly zooms right to the point — a very sobering point: “Rob Fischer has thought hard about killing himself.”
But it’s the second part of that headline that tells a much more uplifting story: “Now he wants to help others who feel lost.”
Fischer, who grew up in St. Louis and was a successful sportscaster in town early in his career, has gone on to a very prominent role in Memphis. He is the host and sideline reporter for Fox Sports Southeast’s telecasts of the NBA’s Memphis Grizzlies games, many of which Fox Sports Midwest airs locally. And he spent more than a decade and a half doing sports-talk radio in the Mid-South.
He has a wife and two kids, ages 5 and 8, and at 48 has a lot going for him, a lot to look forward to every day. But there has been a demon, too — depression.
Fischer recently decided to go public with his troubles, opening up to longtime Memphis sportswriter Geoff Calkins for an article recently published in the Daily Memphian. Yes, suicide crossed his mind. And he nearly acted.
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“I’ve got the dream job that I wanted as a kid,” he told Calkins. “I have an amazing wife, two beautiful children, I make a good living. So when people ask me what I have to be depressed about, I have to say, ‘I don’t know.’”
The background
Fischer, while a student at St. Louis University, got his broadcasting start in 1992 at KASP (1380 AM), St. Louis’ now long-gone first all-sports station. He was on late at night, when he was just 19.
“It was fun to be on one of the first (all-sports) stations in the country,” Fischer, who grew up in Oakville and went to St. Louis University High, told the Post-Dispatch. “To be part of it at that age, I was in the right place at the right time.”
He moved to Las Vegas three years later to do sports talk nationally, before returning to St. Louis at KFNS (590 AM) and was involved in Rams pre and postgame shows as well as doing a weekly football program. It was during that period that he made waves with a well-publicized run-in with Rams coach Mike Martz (more on that to follow).
A broadcasting opportunity later arose in Memphis, where he blossomed, and now has been living for nearly two decades.
“This is home,” Fischer said of the place where he met his wife and had his children. “I never was one to want the ‘next big thing.’ I really like it here.”
Tough times
Fischer said he long has had anger issues, which he attributed to his competitive nature playing sports while growing up in Oakville. Things came to a crescendo on Christmas Day 2004. He was staying at his mother’s house and was preparing for a family gathering at his aunt’s home.
He was running late and couldn’t get his hair to look the way he wanted. Agitation over what would be a minor problem to most people quickly boiled into rage. He screamed at the mirror. He threw things. Then he punched a hole in a bathroom wall.
“I sat on the floor and cried,” he said. “How can I hide this, with a big hole in the wall?”
He had to tell his mom.
“I told her I had a problem and needed help,” he said.
He got it, from a professional in St. Louis.
Darkest day
Fischer was able to manage his situation through medication and perseverance for years — until a setback in 2018 almost led to the end of his life.
“I tried to plan it out,” he said of his intended demise. “I took off work. I was ready to end it. I was trying to figure out a way that my kids wouldn’t find me, my wife wouldn’t see me. I knew if I got in my car, I’d never come back home.”
He called his radio partner to tell him he wouldn’t be working that day. After being asked if he was sick, Fischer confided that it was a mental issue.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” he was told, and his partner contacted a mutual friend who lived nearby and quickly arrived.
“We went to a restaurant and he got me off the ledge,” Fischer said. “That helped a lot.”
He also got back on track by moving his treatment to in-person sessions in Memphis rather than calls to St. Louis.
“I felt I need to do this face to face, not over the phone,” he said.
Going public
Fischer has a happy, energetic personality on the air, often punctuated with flashy shoes and sometimes bright jackets. His Twitter profile picture shows him with the late Craig Sager, the legendary NBA sideline reporter for TNT who set the standard for electric attire.
But for years, few people were aware of his off-air situation. Not that he was ashamed of it — far from that.
“I was just trying to figure out when the right time was” to go public, he said. “It never was the right time.”
He said his doctor told him, “Wait until you’re happy with yourself before you try to help others.”
The coronavirus pandemic created that opening.
“A lot of people feel alone” during this time, Fischer said. “When you have depression, that can be the worst thing for you. So it felt like the right time — felt it would be of help to others. From the responses I’ve gotten, I think I picked the right time.”
He said he was “overwhelmed” with the support he has received, and is especially glad he has been able to make his thoughts known to others who suffer from depression by now having done multiple interviews about his struggles.
“It never goes away, but I feel good now,” he said. “I’m medicated, and talking about it has been therapy for me. I feel like I’m in a good place. But there still can be bad days. The scary thing is you don’t want one of those horrible days.”
Rams rumble
On a lighter note, Fischer made that big headline early on in his career — one that he preferably would not have made.
It was 2001, in the Rams’ “Greatest Show on Turf” days. Fischer, while watching the team practice a few days before its season opener, saw that running backs Marshall Faulk and Trung Canidate were in the backfield together.
In a media session afterward, he asked Martz about the unusual formation. Martz reacted as if Fischer said he had just shown the practice film to the coaches of the Eagles, the upcoming foe.
“Why don’t you just give them our game plan?” Martz said. “Why don’t you just tell them what we’re doing? You’ve got to be kidding me!”
Fischer tried to ask a follow-up question, but Martz cut him off before he could finish.
“You’ve got to be kidding me! Why don’t you just give them a telegram?” Martz asked. “Anybody else?”
It was an educational experience for the young broadcaster, who can laugh about it now.
“Mike was good afterward when we talked,” Fischer said. “He was super.”
He said he thinks part of Martz’s shock came from that fact that Fischer, a young guy then, didn’t ask a lot of questions.
“I was always in the background,” he said. “That caught him by surprise.”
It caught the whole room by surprise.
“It was an experience I can look back on that helped me grow,” Fischer said.
And it helped set the tone for how he approaches people.
“I try to model myself to get respect from players and coaches,” he said, adding that was a firm lesson. “There were never any hard feelings.”
Now his feelings are pointed toward letting others with depression know that aid — like he has received — is available.
“I do still have my moments,” Fischer said. “It doesn’t go away. But all this has helped me feel I’m not alone.”
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Those who have suicidal thoughts can talk to someone at the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline by calling 800-273-8255.
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Geoff Calkins’ story on Fischer: tinyurl.com/546hzexh
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